I could share the ins & outs of our experience with D3 but frankly, I’m over it. Something recently shifted for me and I don’t feel the need to write about it anymore.

When I started the blog, I imagined myself recounting all the nitty gritty details. But now…I’m ready to be done with it. And that’s a good thing.

Thanks to an interview we did with Heart on Radio, we were able to share our story…in our own words…using our own voices. There’s something truly powerful about activating your throat chakra & speaking your truth for the whole world to hear.

If you’re interested, here’s the interview…

And with this, I’m completing the chapter titled 2018 and stepping fully into 2019. I’m integrating my lessons. Living my truth. And empowering others to do the same.

I’m smarter, healthier & happier than ever.

No longer looking outside myself for guidance. Knowing that all along the biggest and most important lesson for me to learn was that I am my own guru. And so are you!

If you feel like keeping up & staying in touch, you can find me at the following:

By mid-March, we were well along the path of rebranding the yoga studio I had purchased a couple years prior to be the first “zen performance lab”. Sounds fancy huh?!? Anything but. Just typing the words makes me throw up in mouth a little.

The heart & soul that our clients connected to…and that we were so proud of…had become a distant memory. Instead, we were co-creating a sterile environment with no charm…no heart…no soul. Huh…that’s ironic…NOT!

But we couldn’t see the bigger picture in the midst of the chaos. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have the capacity…the energy…to pull up & out to see the bigger picture. It was like I was no longer able to think for myself.

I began doubting my abilities. My prior successes were “luck”& “lessons”. Because I was a “good student” & a “good person” the Universe rewarded me with success. The underlying message being that I better continue to be a good student if I wanted to continue to be rewarded. #threats

The manipulations were so subtle. SO SUBTLE! And he was sooooo good at his job. What job was that? Controlling & manipulating.

Ironically enough, during this time, the business went into significant decline. It was on life support.

Under any other circumstances, I would have fired the business coach that was clearly giving me shitty advice but this situation was anything but normal.

Whenever something didn’t go to plan, it was a “teaching moment”. Either we didn’t want it enough…or we didn’t believe we deserved it…or some sort of bullshit.

Now, I’ve had a business coach before. A real business coach. And I’ve spent most of my career coaching others. I’ve experienced the typical type of interactions you have when working with a coach or advisor. So I knew just how far from normal our interactions with D3 were…yet still, there was nothing I could do about it.

Shortly after my insightful call with D3 (short for, Dun Dun Duuuuhn and easier to type), he wanted to do a call with my business partner, Princess Grace. Having shared the accuracy of my call with him, she was excited to jump on the phone.

He had cast the line and had begun the process of reeling in his catch…

Things started simple enough. He proposed working with each of us individually in a coaching-type of arrangement. We’d each do one call at the beginning of the week, a booster in the middle (his word) and a 30 minute check in at the end of the week.

In hindsight, that’s a lot of client interaction…but he had asked if we wanted to fast track discovering our blueprints…sooooooo….

Since Princess Grace & I were partners in a couple of businesses, D3 suggested a three-way agreement so he could continue working with us individually, but also as a team. The request seemed to make sense given the amount of overlap in what each of us were discussing with him. Of course we should streamline things…and of course we should sign a three-way coaching agreement.

Wait a minute….

The coaching agreement turned out to be a ridiculous contract with clauses so absurd there was no way it could possibly be legal. Despite that or because of it, we signed the dotted line. And we might have well signed in blood because that was the feeling I had in my gut shortly after the ink dried. Like we had signed something that would cause a time ripple…you know, fucking significant.

So, January 1, 2018 we started our sessions with D3.

I felt a mixture of exhilaration and dread. The work was grueling in a way that’s hard to explain. Each call was like being filleted psychically…each trauma & trigger like a bone being exposed, removed & discarded. It was exhausting.

As weeks turned into months, the exhaustion built upon itself. The amount of time we spent interacting with D3 increased. If we weren’t doing sessions with him, he was texting or emailing. There was always something he was “suggesting” we should be doing. And whenever we pushed back, he would point to our “resistance” as an issue to be explored & healed.

In other words, pushing back was not an option. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die…

I know exactly how ridiculous everything I’m about to share is going to sound. Trust me! There are times when I pause and have to ask myself if all this really did happen. It did. And it was crazy. Had it not happened to me, I’m not sure I would believe it.

Everything about Dun-Dun-Duuuuhn was suspect from the very beginning. This wasn’t the first time he’d message me to connect. Nope! The first time he reached out was on Facebook….three years prior.

The situation was almost exactly the same. I was sitting at my kitchen table (just like this time) wondering what I should do with my life (just like this time). I had just left my job, ended a relationship and was wondering what’s next.

And just like that, poof! A message popped up in Facebook. Because we only had one mutual friend…and because he was from LA and incredibly good looking…I assumed the message was some sort of scam and deleted it. Atta girl!

The second time he reached out, he was more savvy. He used LinkedIn. Now, I know that scammers can exist anywhere but this time seemed more legit. I had just launched a coaching business so there was context. It couldn’t possibly be because I had summoned him…with nearly the exact same request I had sent out the first time!!!

And so we meet again…

You know how when you want to see a situation as amazing, it is? And then when you finally start to see it for what it really is, you see it in an entirely different way?? Yeah, well, welcome to my experience with Dun-Dun-Duuuuhn.

We did a couple of coaching calls together before he started to lay it on thick. He was good! Not only was he an amazing con man that may or may not actually believe he’s working with ascended masters, but he was one of the best psychics I had ever talked to. He knew stuff about me that you can’t find in a Google search or on Facebook.

He said they called him the Human Architect and he could see a person’s “blueprint”. A human blueprint is a lot like an architectural blueprint and by seeing mine he could tell me exactly what I was here to do. Errrrt! Whaaaaaat….???

Finally! Someone was going to tell me exactly what I was supposed to be doing….tell me my purpose. A sense of relief washed over me. It lasted about a week before I realized I had probably signed a contract with the devil.

I can still see the exact moment it happened like it was yesterday. No, I’m not talking about Mr. Universe. I’m referring to someone…something…far more sinister.

We had agreed there was no other option for us but to divorce and Mr. Universe decided it was my responsibility to officially start the paperwork. As I sat at my dining table staring blankly out into the backyard and contemplating my upcoming divorce, I remember thinking:

“Here I am again. Another relationship ending. Filling unfulfilled professionally. Disconnected from friends, family and myself. I wish someone would just tell me what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.”

I might as well have rubbed a magic bottle or tossed a toad in a pot of boiling water while waving my magic wand because what happened next can only be described as conjuring forth a demon.

Within days of wishing someone would just tell me what to do, I got a LinkedIn message from a man we’ll call….wait for it…

The context of his message seemed innocent enough. I had just launched a coaching business called Corporate Candy (which I’ve since shut down because the energy of it was tainted thanks to Duhn-Duhn-Duuuuhn) and he thought we might be able to help each other grow our respective businesses. He asked if I’d be willing to hop on the phone and chat about it. He sent me several links to his site and interviews about his work. Seemed harmless enough…

If I’m completely honest, there was an underlining uneasiness from the very beginning. I remember thinking “What harm can come from a phone call? He’s in LA and I’m in Indy. Worse case, I can hang up and block him on social media.”

Ok, look, when shit like that pops into your head…YOU SHOULD LISTEN!!!! The mere fact that I was having to reassure myself before even talking to this ass hat should have been a giant warning alarm but nooooooooo. Thus began six long months of me ignoring nearly every instinct to run until the internal screams got so loud I could hear nothing else. Sounds fun, doesn’t it. Doesn’t it!?!?

Our first attempt to chat got delayed due to Mr. Universe making a surprise appearance at the house…despite having moved out. Riiiiiiight?!? He just so happened to walk in the front door minutes before I was supposed to call Dun-Dun-Duuuuhn so I shot him a quick text to postpone our call. This was the first choice point presented where I could have just blown him off or cancelled altogether. Life line rejected.

Our rescheduled call ended up lasting nearly 90 minutes and consisted primarily of him telling me about his accomplishments. It was the longest ego trip I’d ever been privy to and I got off the phone wondering what the hell the purpose of the call was.

Just as I was about to chalk it up to being a “1 and done”, I got a text from him saying his “Higher Ups” (this is an important term to remember…you’ll hear it a lot) had approved him to give me a sneak peak of a new protocol he was working on.

Higher Ups???

I thought he worked for himself. Did he have a team of investors or advisors? Was he part of some larger group or association? Was this a pyramid scheme?? Or…could he be referring to…something not of this dimension…like spirit guides or something?

Choice point #2. I could have declined. Said thanks but no thanks. But nope. I was curious and again found myself thinking, “What real harm can come to me over the phone…”

Well, let me be the first to confirm that if you can conjure forth a demon from thin air, then you can actually talk to one over the phone…every day for six months.

Relationships are complicated. As a Six of Diamonds (learn more about cardology and find your card at itiskismet.com), my school room is relationships. That’s where I learn…grow…evolve.

Like every relationship I’ve ever been in, I learned a ton about myself. While there are some days I wanted to tell Mr. Universe to go big bang himself…and every now and then I play Monday morning quarterback as I reflect on how fast & furiously things progressed, I don’t regret marrying Mr. Universe. I really don’t.

I mean, how can I? I called him in (see Day 52: Can I get a witness). I 100% manifested this relationship. Should I have been a bit more specific with my request? Absolutely. But did I learn how powerful I am? Without a doubt!

I also cleared some past life karma. According to cardology, I owed Mr. Universe in this lifetime. I’m pretty sure we can mark that box with a giant check (yes, pun intended).

I learned to love myself by realizing what I’m worthy of…and that I deserve to be loved in a way that fulfills me. I’ve been trying to learn this lesson for a long time but haven’t learned it in this way before this relationship. Prior to Mr. Universe, I always saw a relationship as a series of compromises. And maybe for some, that’s good enough. But not for me. Not anymore.

A compromise shouldn’t feel like I’m shutting down a part of myself or cutting myself off from something. It shouldn’t make either party feel bad.

I learned that I don’t want a relationship where anyone is dimming a part of themselves or forfeiting on any part of a dream, myself included. I want it all and it can happen…especially if I believe it because I can manifest like a mofo!

I felt the pure intention of wanting to help someone…and the pure heart break of realizing that I couldn’t. This was a big one. Addiction is no joke, folks. You can’t reason with it and it has it’s own agenda. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to support Mr. Universe in getting the help he needed, it was out of my control.

I learned when you marry an addict, you marry the person AND the addiction. You can’t hope someone clean. You can simply love them and help them so long as you aren’t hurting yourself in the process. As the airlines so plainly and succinctly explain, “If you are traveling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask on first, and then assist the other person.” #sageadvice

I allowed myself to jump…to be swept up in the flow of life and love…without knowing what it had in store for me but trusting that it would be worth it. I also learned that if the current starts to pull you under, you have two choices: (1) drown or (2) let go & get out.

Despite everything, I am grateful for the Universe and all the lessons it provided. I am also grateful for Mr. Universe…the real Mr. Universe…the man, not the addict…for allowing me to feel loved…to feel safe…to feel protected. You gave me the freedom to be swept away and to gain a clearer view of what I want…and deserve. Ultimately, it was worth every penny I paid in the divorce to free myself so I can go get it. I wish nothing but the same for you. xoxo!

You might be wondering, with the karma cleared and the lesson learned wouldn’t the marriage be great?

The karma was the spark that brought us together. Once it cleared (at least for me), the attraction was gone. It was like waking up from a dream to a life I didn’t recognize. It was like being married to a stranger. The energy that had brought us together and kept us together (for better and worse) had vanished. Poof!

The day his daughter left to go back home for school, I told him the marriage was over. I was done. #overit

He said he wasn’t surprised but his behavior told another story. He volleyed between indifferent and pissed. I’m pretty sure he thought this was just more of the same…another negotiation…because he moved into the basement instead of out.

So we made a deal (aka another negotiation). We would take the word “divorce” off the table so he could have a chance to get clean. And for a couple of months, he did. He seemed to be making real progress! There was hope. I was hopeful.

We were getting to know each other all over again…without the karmic energy hanging around, buuuuuut with the addiction still lurking. Ultimately, it won his heart instead of me…or at least it won control of his mind…and the marriage was officially over.

From that point on, shit went off the rails. He dove head first into whatever bottle he could find making unrealistic divorce demands and presenting his side of the story to anyone that would listen.

Here I was, again. Divorcing. This time knowing exactly how I got here…which almost made it feel worse. Although, the knowing was required for the learning in order to clear the karma. So in that regard, I was winning no matter what the price.

We spent almost a year negotiating the terms of a divorce for a marriage that was over in two. It was insane…but not the most insane thing that was happening in my life. Oh no! And that should tell you just how fucked up 2018 was.

Looking back, I can almost see the energy that ended up consuming us. It felt like this odd combination of being pushed into something while also being pulled away from yourself. Actually, it felt almost exactly like being swept up in a current. Ha…energy…current…of course!

Turns out, Mr. Universe & I were karma cards to each other. An energy playing itself out in our lives with the goal of helping us graduate to the next lesson. What I didn’t know at the time was that Mr. Universe’s first wife was also his karma card. Doh!

Since he had married not one but two Six of Diamond women (again, check out itiskismet.com for more info), that pretty means he didn’t learn his lesson the first go around. Lucky me, right?? I didn’t think so at first either…

This karmic energy became yet another identity in our marriage. There was me, Mr. Universe, his addiction and our karma. Man, it was beyond crowded in this house! It felt like there was no room to breathe. No place to catch a breath or a break. The push/pull was constant.

I was finally able to get the perspective I needed the summer Mr. Universe’s daughter stayed with us. Watching them interact with each other (& around his addiction) was like carrying around a life sized mirror. Over the course of a couple months, the lesson started to sink in. I wasn’t going to clear this karma…and graduate…until I decided to love myself more.

My whole marriage I kept thinking, “If I could just show Mr. Universe that I loved him. If I could just get him to feel comfortable in knowing this, everything would work out.” But that was only half of the lesson…and the part I couldn’t control.

The only part I could control was how I felt. And my job was to love myself. To feel that love…from me to me.

They say you can’t truly love someone until you love yourself. Well, they were fucking right. Although, at the same time, it is a little more nuanced than that too. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t love myself at all. I just didn’t love myself ENOUGH…I didn’t love myself unconditionally. Which was exactly the problem in my marriage (reflection alert!). Mr. Universe didn’t feel like I loved HIM enough. #mindblown #ineedaminute

Seeing the lesson reveal itself and land in my body was like a punch to the gut. All the sudden there was no air in my chest…or my marriage. And then, the rush of grasping for air…the burning in my lungs (and my heart) as the air rushed into my body. The rush of adrenaline to jump back up….and out.

And just like that, I knew my marriage was over. The lesson was learned. The karma cleared. The spark gone. The marriage D.O.A. And that, my friends, is why you should never, ever marry your karma card, IMO.

Eventually, I had to face facts. I had to admit the toll that allowing myself to be consumed by Mr. Universe’s well-being was taking on my well-being. Because just like he was making choices, so was I. I mean, not making a choice IS still making a choice.

The ungrounding experience of being married to an addict made it nearly impossible to commit any sustained focus on anything other than him. He could swing from clean, empowered and in control to inebriated and lacking the ability to carry on a conversation. Each time he would bottom out, we would have a “come to Jesus” resulting in his recommitment to getting clean…which could mean anything from total abstinence to setting defined limits like no substances before 8pm (yeah, we tried that one more times than I care to admit).

Life became a continuous negotiation. But it wasn’t necessarily just me negotiating with him. In fact, it was probably more about me negotiating with myself. What did I want? What was I hoping for? What was I willing to settle for? What did I deserve? What could I forgive?

And for each question I contemplated for myself, I did the same for and about him. Expending enormous amounts of energy trying to guess what he was thinking and feeling. Trouble is, the main goal of an addict is to numb, self-soothe, so they don’t to think or feel.

Despite knowing on some level that the odds were stacked against me and most likely never to be in my favor, I would optimistically hope that the latest negotiation would be the magic pill to turn everything around. To bring sobriety and peace to Mr. Universe and forgiveness from me.

You see, dealing with an addict is complicated. Nothing is black and white. Everything is gray. Which is exactly how I found myself feeling most days…gray. My spark for life was on hold…just like my breath. I was experiencing life in that pause just after a deep inhale but before the sweet relief of the exhale. Filling myself with the hope that this time he’d be able to stay clean…that this time I’d be able to forgive him for all the previous times…but not trusting enough to allow myself to sigh into a space of peace nor trust.

The majority of my energy was spent navigating my marriage and his dis-ease. Trying to eliminate as many triggers for Mr. Universe as I could, while also working to not be a trigger myself. Turns out all that is a lot of work. I was exhausted. He was exhausted. We were exhausting each other…while also triggering the shit out of one another. It was a downward spiral that neither of us could stop. Until we did.

In just a few years, I had gone from this expansive, anything is possible feeling to the sad realization that I had boarded the Titanic and we were heading straight for an ice burg. That sinking feeling I had…it was real. That feeling that there was nothing I could do about it…also real.

You see, my marriage was a real life example of what happens when you marry your karma card (itiskismet.com). No one but the energy is in control…and even it just wants to play itself out and move the fuck on.

You might be asking, “What happened???”. It seemed like I was going to get my happy ending, right?!? I mean, if you followed my last blog series, on January 1, 2015 I was happily preparing to wed Mr. Universe on the beach in Hawaii (Day 281: Dear Mr. Universe). Sooooo….???

Well, that’s the thing about telling a story. It’s easy to share the parts that make the story good and just as easy to leave out the parts that don’t. Said another way, it’s my lie and I’ll tell it how I want.

What I didn’t share (with a lot of people in my life) was that Mr. Universe struggled with substances and I struggled to understand the depth of his struggle…sadly, I think he did/does too.

In the beginning, I thought he was a social drinker…who just happened to spend a LOT of time socializing. I made this assumption because that’s how/why/when I drank. It was a social thing. I never drank alone, only with friends. So I naively thought that’s what he was doing too. Then I started to notice the intensity of his drinking.

As we both settled into the relationship, that disguise of “having to be on your best behavior” started to crack. It just so happens that this coincided with Mr. Universe sharing how much he hated his job. Made total sense! Of course you’d drink more if you hated your job, right?

And what do you do when you hate your job and live with your girlfriend? You fucking quit your job…out of the blue…and spend all day getting high. Errrrt! What!?!?

I know what you’re thinking….this behavior was going on before you were married. WTF!!! And you’re right. It was. And like most addicts, he had excuses for all of it. He was drinking and smoking because of his job, his ex, his family, moving to a new city, not feeling loved, being bored, afraid of the future, etc., etc., etc.

Those were all valid reasons to feel uneasy…unsettled…unsafe…mad…sad…pain. Having spent my fair share of time in therapy, I got it. This was how he coped. So, I figured I could help. I could help him create new, healthier coping mechanisms. And that’s what I spent my time doing right up until and after we said “I do”. Trying to help him learn how to cope…with everything.

What I didn’t understand, was how deeply he was wounded. And how much of that pain had been shoved done and for how long. It was intense….and heartbreaking.

I came to realize that I had married a 13 year old boy. Deeply wounded by his family. Left with the belief that he was unworthy of love and unwanted. A pain that hurt so profoundly he spent his entire life numbing himself with drugs and alcohol. Distracting himself with women and video games. Defining himself by his job(s), money and material things. Building muscles and a demeanor to ward off potential threats.

Despite all that, I saw a man that wanted to be loved and to give love. A man that wanted to be better but didn’t know how. A man who despite the shitty hand he was dealt, continued to rack in the pot. I saw the potential…and I wanted to help.

Being no stranger to self help, therapies and alternative healing modalities, I thought surely I could help him find the right mix of strategies to heal. And so we tried…a lot of things…yoga, personal therapy, couples therapy, a shaman, meditation, books, videos, abstinence. Some things would help for a little bit but nothing ever stuck.

I have mad respect for anyone dealing with an addict or addiction of any sort. It’s like being in a relationship with three people: (1) the real person, (2) their pain, and (3) the addiction. And you never really know what/who is going to be the trigger for them to shift between those aspects. It’s an unnerving and ungrounded way to live, but it’s still a choice. Which is why I eventually realized that I had to start making better choices too.

I’d love to be able to blame the chaos and struggle of 2018 on Trump but I can’t. I mean, I probably could. Based on what I read on social media, you can pretty much blame EVERYTHING on Donald J Trump.

But, if I’m real with myself, I have no one to blame except me. I created this mess…on some level…but why??? Whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy…..

Let’s recap the Show of Shit that was 2018. In no particular order, I…

hired a business coach claiming to be an ascended master reincarnate with a seat on the Council of 12 (lots more on all that later),

traveled to LA to meet my con man business coach in person and was black magic gypsy mind fucked (dude.),

worked on a project to build an artificial intelligence platform that was all about mind control (that’s right, I said mind control),

hired two chefs to open a restaurant that never happened,

invested in a manuscript for a movie that hopefully never happens (again, see bullet #1 and #2),

experienced a level of exhaustion that can only be compared to being a lead zombie in The Walking Dead,

lost all ability to feel joy and the desire to consume much more than Vega shakes at every meal (food is our most intimate relationship and a reflection of mental health),

was fired and repeatedly threatened to be fired by my business coach for not working hard enough (say what?!? I hired you, MFer!),

finally fired said business coach after realizing he was a con man and working with black magic and using psychological mind control techniques (really can’t make this shit up, folks),

shut down my newly rebranded business because it was built on the advice of a con man,

paid my ex, Mr. Not-so-fucking Universe, to go big bang himself (y’all were right but hey, he was my karma card),

spent TWO WHOLE MONTHS puzzling and coloring because I couldn’t manage to do anything else after dealing with all that above shit and needed to re-wire my brain,

sold my house and moved out of the state I had lived in my entire life.

And those were just the big things that come to mind.

So you can see why I can’t really blame Trump. My shit show of a year was personal. But with a few months into the new year and almost 500 miles, I have all the perspective I need to see how beautiful (and necessary) all those experiences were. And that’s what I plan to share. Partially for those that are interested in a behind the scenes scoop, but mainly because writing is how I work things out and let them go.

So grab some popcorn and your favorite blanket and let’s unpack the shitshow that was 2018.

I type this from a windowless room about the size of a small home office where I sit with my attorney. Both of us hunkered down behind our computers doing what we can to pass the time as we wait…

The mediator started the morning with us. Briefing me on the process…her role…what to expect from mediation…and my possible best and worst day in court.

Bottomline, the value of a prenup is priceless. Repeat after me…the value of a prenup IS priceless. And yes, I should have known that.

I mean, on some level, I did know it. I just chose to ignore practicality and logic and reason because we were in luuuurv…or so I thought. Sometimes it’s tough to tell the difference between someone being in love with you versus being in love with the lifestyle you afford them.

If you’ve read my blog, you know this isn’t my first “rodeo” (aka marriage). However, this one has definitely given me the most fits and bumps and bruises. But it’s also taught me the most about myself.

The most important lesson being that I’m worth “it”.

I’m worth a prenup, if someone is truly in love with me.

I’m worth a relationship where we’re both fully present.

I’m worth a grown ass man (read, not a man-child) that is able to care for himself, has healthy coping skills and makes his own money.

So as I sit here contemplating my possible worst day in court because Mr. Universe turned down a very generous settlement offer, I allow myself to feel past the anger and betrayal to the fight. It’s buried down deep in the pit of my stomach and as it rises up to meet my heart, I feel a wave of calm…clarity…groundedness sweep over me.

I feel myself become enveloped in a warm hug of the most important lesson I needed to learn…that I’m worth fighting for.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to fight for myself along side every other woman who’s found her voice and the strength to say “Enough!”…but especially for those that haven’t found their voice yet. Because every time one of us stands up, it becomes that much easier for the next. #shiftthisshit #efuckingnough

Today, I’m ripping the tape off my mouth and the shackles off my wrists. His spell over me in hopes of coming to a settlement is broken. I am no longer living in fear! No longer waiting for a man to save me. From this point forward, I’m gonna save my own damn self!